


Dream

by orphan_account



Series: Getting There [2]
Category: the GazettE
Genre: Drabble, Getting Together, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Fluff, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Pining, Short, Uruha doesn't know how to talk, he'll learn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2019-05-18 21:52:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14860950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Uruha knew it must have been a dream.





	Dream

**Author's Note:**

> This is basically just a continuation to [The Whole World](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14838434), because I wasn't done yet. I decided to make this a series, the future fics will actually be longer. They will also be less rambly (probably) and have actual dialogue (after Uruha remembers how talking works) T_T ok.

_“Are you in love with me?”_

_“Yes.”_

Engulfed by blinding darkness, Uruha knew it must have been a dream; pale fingers on shivering skin, tracing tear stains, dancing upon closed eyes, leaving behind a heat that set his skin aflame and turned his vision red. Soft lips on fluttering eyelids, warm hands cradling the sides of his face, pulling him down and he wanted to open his eyes, wanted to, but…  
“Breathe,” and he wanted to, really wanted to, because Ruki was asking him to, but when he tried to exhale there was no air in his lungs.

Ruki’s hands left his face, leaving behind a chill that made him shiver, and he had to open his eyes, had to, because Ruki couldn’t walk away, he wouldn’t. And he didn’t, he was still standing there, still watching Uruha from behind thick eyelashes, so inconceivably calm and certain. He wasn’t going anywhere.

A sharp intake of breath cut through the silence and air flooded his lungs, making his head swim, and for a moment he was sure he would fall, but then Ruki’s hands were on his shoulders, holding on. He didn’t know why it was so hard to talk, why all he could do was wait pathetically for the other to say something, and it frustrated him to the point where he wanted to run away and forget tonight ever happened.

But he wouldn’t. He couldn’t.

“Come on,” Ruki's voice was so casual, so absolutely normal, and he couldn't understand how the other did it. But Uruha didn't think about it much longer, because there was a hand tugging at his, pulling him towards the open door of his hotel room, and it was only then that he realised they'd been standing in the hallway where anyone could see them.

He didn't even care.

He stumbled after Ruki like a moth after a flame, somehow managing to close the door behind him, even though his brain didn't really register his hand moving. And then they were standing there, hand in hand. Ruki was staring at the narrow bed, and he was staring at Ruki's back, terrified and not really knowing why. He shouldn't think about what was going to happen, had no right to assume, but Ruki's silence was slowly killing him and he was so, so warm.

“What happens now?” He was surprised to hear himself talk, surprised the words left his mouth on their own, and immediately regretting the stupidity of his question. But Ruki merely chuckled, and Uruha stared entranced at the way his narrow shoulders shook.

Ruki's hand left his, but only for the moment it took him to turn around and face the taller man, and then both his hands were back in Ruki's smaller ones. All he could do was stare, stare at the way the singer fixated his eyes on their entwined fingers, contemplating, until Ruki's dark eyes were back on his, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.   
“I'm exhausted,” he whispered, and Uruha remembered the long day they had, realised what time it must have been now. For a moment he hoped he'd kept his mouth shut a little longer, found a better time to come clean, but it was too late now and he couldn't bring himself to regret it. Not even when he saw the shadow of guilt in Ruki's eyes.

He glanced at the bed, deciding it was big enough for two, and even though his heart raced and his entire body felt numb, he pulled at Ruki's hands and stepped closer. The smaller one looked puzzled for a split second, but then the guitarist was turning him around and guiding him towards the bed. And Uruha was burning, skin emitting a heat he knew the other could feel, but he would suffer an eternity for one night next to Ruki, even if it reduced him to ashes.

The bed was small, they’d have to sleep on their sides, but he found that he didn’t care, not when Ruki was there, close enough to touch. And he wanted to, felt his hands reaching but stopped them, because in the end Ruki hadn’t said anything, hadn’t given him permission. And Uruha had never felt so uncertain, so absolutely confused and lacking the knowledge to progress.

“We'll talk tomorrow,” Ruki promised, voice fading, and Uruha could tell he was already drifting. Answering with a smile he closed his eyes, trying hard to calm his heart rate, grabbing fistfuls of bed sheets just to make sure his hands would stay where they were, trapped between his chest and Ruki. But he couldn't calm down, couldn't stop the fluttering butterflies in his chest, the tension in every muscle he knew the name for and more.

Blood had rushed from his hands, leaving them white and cold as he squeezed the stiff fabric, wanting to let go and reach for Ruki in the darkness, scared that if he did his hands would meet nothing but cold air. Because it must have been a dream, and not even the soft sound of Ruki's breathing and the way it tickled his face could convince him otherwise.

Exhaling sharply when he finally relaxed his hands, leaving behind crumpled sheets, he carefully reached a shaky hand towards the dim outline of Ruki's face. When his cool fingers touched warm skin there was a soft sound, a satisfied hum that made relief course through his veins, made him bold and courageous enough to run a finger along smooth skin.  
It was like silk, his skin, and Uruha couldn't stop himself from moving even closer, resting his forehead against Ruki's in a desperate attempt to ground himself.

His fingers curled around the thin fabric of Ruki's shirt, holding onto it as if the other might suddenly disappear, or maybe push him away. He wasn’t sure where to go from here, dreading the possibility that none of this was actually real, because that would kill him as surely as never saying a word would have killed him.

But then a small hand wrapped around his wrist, holding on tightly, a pair of soft lips fleetingly brushed against his own; and there, engulfed by blinding darkness, Uruha knew it wasn’t a dream.

 


End file.
